Staring at the Sun
by Pop-Six-Squish
Summary: After taking Charlie Oliver, the infamous Stowaway in his home, Alfie gets everything stolen from him by the little brat, now self proclaimed boss of the Marigot plantation. But the Dandy won't wait for his goods to be returned, and prepares his vengeance in the shadows with some help from another templar hougan, ready to unleash the fury.
1. Chapter 1

Staring at the sun

His valid eye was glimmering with anger, as the sun was going down on his plantation, painting everything in sweet orange tones. The slaves were still working hard at that time of the evening… The Comte de Marigot had not been nice with his employees, when he was the ruler of this place, but at least he wouldn't make them work in the sun during the worst hours of the day, between noon and 4PM. When he was their master, they'd work inside in those hours, he was no monster. Today, a pregnant slave had fainted at noon while cutting some sugar cane under the hard sun. And now, he could see her working again as if nothing had happened. He had seen everything. Not much could escape his sight, one-eyed or not, in his plantation.

His plantation.

His very own plantation.

Now ruled by a little brat named Charlie "the Great" Oliver. A nasty little idiot, who had not worked a single day to achieve his new title of plantation owner. Or maybe you can say he had worked, in the shadows and in Alfie's bed, to backstab his "sugar Dandy" as he called him and steal everything from him. How had he not seen this coming ? He sighed. The sun was taking its time to get down, he had plenty of time to remember what had happened, slowly, inevitably.

A growl at his feet reminded him not to lose focus on what had to be done. Two crocodiles, marked with stinky paints and odd symbols, were waiting at his feet. He was kneeling in the mud, hidden by giant plants, full of insects, unbearably reflecting the warmth but perfect to hide. His costume once brand new from a famous shop in Paris was covered with blood, mud and dirt. Even his eyepatch had long gone down in the swamp, and his white eye and scar looked terrible with such an outfit. He couldn't let the wig go, but the nice little curls were gone too, and his former silver hair, now greyish and tangled, was resting on his shoulders. Anyone who had known the Comte de Marigot in his former glory would wonder who was this monster hiding in the swamps, with crocodiles at his feet, but he didn't care. Not much. Not now.

Luckily for him, the crocodiles were under control. The first time he had asked the Hougan to cast a spell on them, he was so afraid he had almost peed in his pants. Huge animals, one of those who could live in both fresh and sea waters. They were said to be the biggest one and a single glance on their fangs would make him shiver, even now. But Dominique Jean was an expert in voodoo magic. And she was on his side, like most of his fellow templars. Most of them offered to help him get rid of the brat but Alfie refused several offers. Oh, yes, he would take some help but only to achieve what had to be done, alone. Charlie thought he was some kind of stupid aristocrat to afraid to break a nail to do anything violent, but he would prove him wrong. Renardo and Flint had searched for him for a few days in the wild areas surrounding his plantation and had finally found him hiding in a lost cabin, but he had refused their offer to take him with them. Before Charlie, he probably would have agreed to, but the betrayal had been such a hard slap in his face, something had broken in him. He wouldn't need all those expensive things anymore, only revenge. Revenge was burning him stronger than the sun and the mosquito bites. In a way, he could thank Charlie for the mess he had done: at least he had opened his eye on something new.

The sun was almost down now. The slaves were starting to light fires, because Charlie would make them work at night too, not even bothering to make night shifts, just to ensure bigger money incomes. If some died, well, a slave can be replaced right ? How could a boy with such an angelic face be such a devil at heart ? Money was all that Charlie wanted. Alfie knew it, from the very first day they had met. But sadly, he couldn't refrain his tastes in boys. He liked them that way, in their early twenties. Oh, for sure, Charlie wasn't one of those Parisian dandies he had enjoyed so much while at the Comédie Française, but he couldn't help it. Something in Charlie was definitely appealing and the harder he had tried to resist, the more seductive the boy became. And what was bound to happen finally happened. Alfie wasn't even sure the boy liked men, liked him. But he sure liked all the pretty things he could find in Alfie's house, all those fine expensive items from France, England, Italy… This bed with the sweetest linen, this tea in the finest porcelain, this rare food almost no one bothered to afford in the Caribbean… Even when he did something wrong, he would ensure his Sugar Dandy wouldn't be too mad at him. One day, for instance, he had opened the trunk with all of Alfie's former costumes from the theatre and while Alfie had begun to shout at him for disturbing his precious collection, the boy had started to undress to try the costume and… Well making love with such an angel in an antic greek costume, that was something. The boy knew his ways, his weaknesses. That brat.

He sighed, waving his hand to remove the flies and insects from his head. Such a gesture would have angered the beasts at his feet but thanks to some voodoo god, they remained still. Now the light had been lit in the dark, with shivering hands, it was time to refresh the boy's memory. He had to remember Alfie was still here, lurking in the dark. He was just waiting for a signal… And there it was. A light in the master's room. His room. Furnished with all the best things you could find in the Caribbean. The finest wallpaper imported from Paris, a poster bed with heavy curtains, a hand painted porcelain from Paris to wash yourself, and what about that wood on the floor, imported from Africa ? And that brat, that little cockroach was using all of this as his own, roaming with his dirty thief feet on that expensive floor, and perhaps bringing some kind of port whore under this duvet who had not seen a woman in years. Lighting his lamp with Alfie's oil, wearing the master's night dress, drinking his wine… As he had seen Alfie doing for months, waiting for him in his bed, undressed, ready to fulfill Alfie's wildest desires… Only to rob him without the slightest remorse. That little bastard. That bedbug.

He could feel his anger thickening the air around him. It was the moment, the final moment to fuel the beasts with his hatred, and unleash their fury in the plantation. He hoped the slave would react quickly enough not to be harmed. He didn't want to buy any more slave once he'd be the master of his plantation again and truth be told, despite his madness, he wouldn't hurt anyone, beside Charlie.

Anyway, it wasn't his first attack and the slaves were expecting a dark force to strike again, he could feel it. The Hougan had told him to drink a strange decoction when the sun had started to set. Now he was in a kind of trance, feeling weird, but so powerful ! His heartbeat was like a drum in his hears and he couldn't tell if the mumbling sound was coming from his throat or from some force sitting with him in the dark.

The trance made him feeling so unexplainably weird, he could almost see the feelings in the air around him. His own anger glowing red. Their fear, making some kind of yellow smoke above the plantation. It was time.

He made a gesture with his hands, and suddenly, the crocodiles who were half asleep until then began to run silently in the high grass, melting in the shadows, making a trail of moving plants behind them as they rushed to the fresh meat.

The sound of the screams was the best part of the night. Back on his feet, his knees still muddy and wet, he closed his eyes as his grin was widening. Like a bandmaster conducting an orchestra, he slowly waved his hands as he knew the screams would go only louder and higher pitched.

Such a nice evening, to remind the bedbug who was in command…


	2. Chapter 2

Oh that feeling of wealth, of security, of being at the right place… Charlie stretched his back and yawned. As he was sitting on this plump duvet, ready to dive under it and forget everything until tomorrow morning, he couldn't help but to correct himself in the process. He wasn't _really_ at the right place. It had been, what, more than a month ? And he wasn't still used to being at this place of plantation master. It had been his ultimate act of thievery. And the greatest one yet, for Charlie the Great. The old man had not seen it coming, not one bit, sir. As long as he had had the youngster in his bed, his pants or whatever, he had barely paid attention to what Charlie had been doing behind his back. He was forgiving. Too forgiving, it was his only mistake.

He sighed. During the day, he would brag, show off, be nasty and bossy enough to be respected by the slaves (or so he thought, little did he know they were speaking about cursing him with voodoo spells, not knowing their previous master was already doing it)… But at night, it was… different. He went to the window and looked at them. Maybe he would tell them to stop and go to sleep. Maybe. Would they hear him above their slave songs, from the upper floor of his new castle ? Prince Charlie of the plantation de Marigot and the most luxurious house in the surroundings. Woah. And such a territory under his sight… Even if right now, he could see the light dancing in the dark, a few feet of sugar cane fields and no further. From the first floor, he would hardly see the ground, and the forest at the end was so dense, it was completely dark, darker than the sky. He shivered. Would the mysterious attack strike again this night ?

He went back to the bed, feeling its emptiness one more time. He had shared it for a while with its previous owner and… No, he wouldn't say he was missing Alfie but… The Dandy was for sure a bit too "hungry" some nights but always caring, loving and gentle. He could have been mean, violent and demanding, but… Except for good manners, he had never asked for too much. Damn remorse ! He was pretty sure he was making Alfie way better in his memory than the former count de Marigot really was.

He suddenly punched the pillow Alfie used to sleep on. Why on earth was he missing him ? The whole plan relied on seducing him and in the end, take his place but… The part he had enjoyed the most was seducing him, hands down. Long time since he had done this with a man, and it was a different game, fun as hell, more difficult… The count had tried to resist but Charlie had worked his way on him, oh so well… He would never say it to anyone but damn, the man was so GOOD at what he did under the sheets, sometimes Charlie wondered how many young men had been here before him. He was missing an eye but he knew how to work with his tongue and hands and well… Manliness as they say. Those kind of activities were very rewarding. First in bed, and then in both their humor the next morning, even if Charlie would not show too much, so the Dandy would have to "work" to keep his lover close to him. Spoil him with everything.

Now the game was over and he was feeling empty, pointless. Oh he had tried to seduce ladies with his new title but… Something was feeling wrong. Way too easy for the gambler he was. Any man or woman would be ready for him as soon as he mentioned the plantation. And most of them were just like him, he could spot them at first sight. Once, he had drank too much and almost confessed to a whore that his most fulfilling relationship was the one he had with Alphonse… The very one he threw in hell's flame when he backstabbed his former master. Needless to say he was now a black sheep amongst the templars and none of them would speak to him unless forced to. And since they did their best to remove him from any templar affair, he was pretty much on his own now.

When Alfie was the master here, they were amazing parties at night with all the candles lit, all the crystal lamps glimmering, food smell all over the place with many of his templar friends and it had been nights of wonders for the young man he was. The closest he had ever been to heaven. So many people, from different countries, with different purposes, histories, and lots of things to tell to whoever was listening. And gorgeous and brave women, runaways, aristocrats, pirates… Those short haired brunettes who would swing axes and pistols as well as men did, or that blonde woman, Sylvia, with her amazing breast barely covered with a single layer of clothes and many pearls, it was impossible to speak to her face to face because your eyes were attracted down there, under the pearls… Except for Alfie, whom she seemed to like for his respect. Oh, she knew he wasn't interested but it was some kind of different bargain to her. But after Charlie almost followed her into a haystack one night, Alfie somehow forgot to invite her to the next meetings. And if he said nothing to Charlie (too forgiving, as we said), his body language would speak for him later at night. All those memories… A coffee farmer would look strange in such a luxurious party, but he was at ease, talking to that aristocratic redhead who loved to make thing go BOOM and with another Spanish dark haired noble who spoke to the farmer as if they were equals, they looked like a trio of friends nothing could split despite their different origin. A drunkard pirate would speak to a voodoo hougan and that Chinese woman who looked like she could freeze you in one single glance even laughed once or twice at Alfie's jokes. The templar society was full of wonders, but betray one of them…

He froze, on his bed. Something was going wrong. Something had woken him from that awoken dream but he couldn't figure out what until a second scream, followed by many others tore the night apart. He rushed to his window and opened it. Whatever it was, the upper floor was keeping him safe. He saw nothing but shadows rushing to the slaves quarters and the sugar canes in their fields, moving in a strange way… As if they had their own will. The wind wasn't blowing, the air was heavy, the pressure in the air suggested a storm incoming but there was nothing in the sky but stars shining. Not a single cloud, no rain, nothing but that heavy pressure and that panic coming from his heart and pounding through his veins, freezing him on point. No wind, no air, it was almost painful to breathe, but the sugar canes were moving, like a trail, from the forest to the slaves. It was them, again. A few nights ago, the same pattern had been repeating itself. No one was to be seen, but something attacked the slaves at night, and most of them would refuse to work and were living in the fear of the night hours. Not every night, not on regular schedule, those attacks were unpredictable and thus even more terrifying. He had heard the slave talk about some voodoo gods that had been angered and their answer, crawling at night to the usurper, coming closer and closer as the time went by. The first time, they had stopped in the middle of the first field, the closest to the forest. Then they went at the border of the second, and still, invisible, or too close to the ground to be spotted. And now, they had reached the middle of the second field, the one Charlie had under his windows, and he could see where the trail stopped, in the middle of the sugar canes, as if something had stopped them. As if they were looking at him, whatever "they" were. He could see the sugar canes move, and knew whatever had come so far was still here, waiting for something. Waiting for him to go down?

They would wait until hell froze over. But they remained here, silent, long after the slave locked themselves into their basements, leaving Charlie alone, facing the unknown, petrified. Some slave had seen what they were, but no one told Charlie. They would speak Creole every time he could see them talking about this and looking at him with anger, as if they knew it was his fault.

The sugar canes moved a bit, as they came closer, and stopped again. It was too much for his nerves.

"LEAVE ME ALONE !" he shouted before he even knew he had opened his mouth.

A strong gust of wind came from the forest with something like an insane laugh, but it couldn't be a laugh, who'd laugh like that? The wind became stronger, dashing leaves and insects into his room, extinguishing the candles as well as the torches in his property and he had to struggle to close the window, remaining in the complete darkness for a few seconds before diving under his duvet as quickly as he could, shivering from top to bottom, cursing his stupid plans of thievery.

The night went on with no further problems than panicked slaves and a weird smell he couldn't identify. He allowed himself to sleep only when the sun began to rise in the morning.

At noon, he emerged from the worst sleep he had ever had, full of nightmares of dark figures accusing him, hideous black faces with colored pain on them, speaking Creole and threatening him with throaty noises.

When he went down, his steward who looked like he had spent the same kind of night as he just had looked troubled but Charlie couldn't find the strength to ask why. The man finally admitted that since the slave overseer had been the first one to run away that night, half of the slaves were missing. The other half refused to leave the basement.

Then he bowed and went out, leaving Charlie more lonely and confused that he ever had been his entire life, unaware that a single leaf painted with weird symbols in stinky paint was now remaining under his bed, promising more nightmares to come.

The slave in charge of his room saw it though. And when she looked at the symbols, a terrible headache caused her to drop on her knees and when she gathered enough energy to stand on her feet, she fled away. A few hours later, she had forgotten it was here, and would never touch it again.


	3. Chapter 3

If there was one thing to remember after this interview with the Grand Master Torres, it was plain and simple: things were not doing well for the order right now, and all the battles inside the order had to stop, and quickly. It was one of those dark moments for the Order when the assassins were ahead, in terms of progression in their quest for the observatory and everyone was concerned with all the troubles that were to come. Everyone but Alphonse de Marigot, who remained unseen, and his lover Charlie, now head of the Marigot plantation, which was unfortunately a strategic place on the Carribean route and now, the Grand Master was fed up with all these stories. He had been very clear with Renardo. Whether his friend went back in his place and ready to work for the order, or they'd burn his plantation to the ground, if needed, to remind him the real purpose of their presence here.

Renardo had seen it coming from a long way, anyway. He had asked his fellow Spanish friend Alejandro Ortega de Marquez to take care of his current affairs, and was ready to settle this story once and for all. Renardo was always ready. As Flint would always say, "unexpected" was no part of his vocabulary. Speaking of Flint, he was sitting at a table, waiting in the Grand Master's garden with Manuel, as he had asked them to, both of them drinking ale in a big tree's shadow, resting before the storm. A powder-loving English aristocrat, a noble born Spanish swordsman and a peasant born God knows where. The three of them were as different as three men can be, physically, mentally, ethically and yet, they shared the strongest bond men looking in the same direction would ever have. Putting "brother" back in brother in arms.

As if he was reading in his mind, Flint looked up and smiled as he saw Renardo coming. Manuel made a gesture with his eternal straw hat, which was the best demonstration of affection he was capable of. The man didn't speak much and was easily forgotten… Until his weapon crushed your skull in a powerful swing.

"Gentlemen, we have a problem." Renardo sighed.

Manuel said no word but handed him a third glass of ale that had been waiting for him the whole time. He sat down but before he had the time to open his mouth, the redhead started to laugh.

"Oh, _we_ have a problem ? Is that why _we're_ here ?"

\- - Stop smiling that way or I smash your head with that glass. Thank you for this, by the way, he added before drinking a long shot.

\- - It would be an aweful waste of a pretty good ale, _amigo_. What's wrong?

\- You know what's wrong. Alfie, of course.

Manuel sighed in his glass but said nothing.

\- - It's time for the two idiots to stop fighting and become friends again on a pillow? asked Flint with a grin.

\- - I think they both went too far for that. This time the brat didn't steal a damn crystal glass but a whole property.

\- - We should have bombed his thin arse a long time ago. If only you had listened to me…

Manuel smiled. He wasn't fond of bombing things, but the blondie needed some education. The one a good kick in the butt gives you, quick and clear.

\- - Bombing things isn't the solution to everything, Hilary. We need to find something quickly.

\- - Quickly? asked Manuel finally raising his head from his drink.

\- - Or our good old friend will have no more houses to throw parties into.

\- - Hot damn. That's some radical solution, worst than my bombs. Not that I don't like it but… Alfie doesn't deserve that. Maybe we could just burn one room, but with the brat inside?

\- - We need to talk to him, Hilary. You know, talk? No flintlocks involved, no powder, no projectile, just talking.

\- - As if he would listen.

\- - Hilary's words are more destructive than his black powder, said Manuel in a grin.

\- - True. I shall talk, and you will come with me.

\- - Why so ?

\- Because I ask you to.

\- - Fair point." said Hilary, giving up.

The three of them put their glasses down. There was nothing more to add.

The Marigot plantation was quite silent, as they walked on the beach to reach it. When Alfie was here, it was usual to hear the slaves singing while working, they said it helped. Alphonse had never been too fond of slavery but had made his way on top on society and now, he was trying to give them the best life a slave could have in that part of the world. Oh, they were probably unhappy but at least, they had a better life than others in other plantations. Renardo stopped in front of the big wooden portal. The two others stopped as well, waiting for him to say something.

"Something's wrong, he said, frowning.

\- - No joke, said Flint in a grin.

\- - Where are all the slaves?

\- - In the background, here. Another one there. Wait. Is it me or… Are they chained to the trees? What kind of sick joke is it?

\- - Many of them are missing it seems. Charlie doesn't bother about making them work in bright daylight, even when the sun is high. Something went wrong.

\- ( We should ask Alfie himself, Manuel suggested. 'Pretty sure he's involved.

As usual, he looked like he was at ease despite the sun bites when Flint was almost as red as his coat.

\- - Sure thing. But in the shadows, for Pete's sake, Hilary groaned.

Manuel laughed and put his straw hat on his friend's head with a grin.

\- - Thank you. Now I look like a slob.

\- - A slob who doesn't have to suffer from the son, _idiota_.

\- Can we focus please ? Renardo sighed.

\- - It's simple. We need to find Alfie. Oh, wait, he's in a cabin in the woods, God knows where, and I found him the first time with the most incredible luck I ever had in my entire life.

Hilary was becoming sassier and sassier as the heat increased. He despised the sun, despite loving his life in the Caribbean.

\- - I remember where, said Manuel.

\- - How in hell can you remember anything in those damn swamps?

\- - We were not all born in big cities, Master Flint, not us, poor slobs, Manuel said with a smile.

\- - So, shall we proceed? asked Renardo.

\- - Anything you'd like, kind sir, but away from this place, please."

Manuel went ahead, not mentioning the fact that it would probably be less bearable in the swamp, with its humidity and all those tree's heat, but he knew Flint wouldn't complain too much. He knew what was lurking down there and was relying on his friend to get away from here alive. The things they had to do for a lovers' quarrel…

The jungle around the Marigot Plantation was dark and noisy. The sun was blocked by the heavy coat of leaves above their heads and it this took too long, they would need torches. Manuel's weapon was a precious ally in this struggle, not only could he use it as a cane, but also give it to his fellow templars when they needed something to hold on. Flint had put the hat back on his head after they went away from the sun and he was glad he had it, with all those insects and other caterpillars falling from the trees. After twenty minutes, Flint finally broke the silence, only punctuated with their heavy breathings until then.

"Are you sure it's this deep in the woods ? I can't picture Alfie in such a swamp man.

\- - Something broke in Alfie, Renardo explained. He's no longer the idiot he used to be. Oh, for sure he's still kind of an idiot but…

\- - Oh, well, merci bien ! a voice echoed around them. It's good to see your friends still like you after you've been backstabbed!

That horrible French accent made no doubt on who was talking. They had reached their destination. Above them, on a hill made of dirt, dead tree trunks and fallen leaves, the former comte de Marigot was standing, and he wasn't looking pleased. At his feet, what looked like a mangrove crocodile was looking at the strangers, apparently half asleep but perfectly terrifying for the three men down there. Those were the biggest kind of crocodiles ever discovered in those formerly wild islands.

\- - Of course we do, we wouldn't be here otherwise, Alphonse, Renardo said in a calming tone.

Being called by his real name and not a stupid nickname had its effect on Alfie. Renardo was well prepared for this.

\- - And why are you here for then ? Visiting my new territory for fun ? Isn't it brilliant? Have you seen the size of the mosquitoes, the nice smell of mud and shit in the air, isn't it just fascinating, how swarming it can be ?

His voice was too sharp, the three boys could feel he was on the verge of insanity, and the words were to be chosen carefully. Manuel would remain silent, but Flint… Renardo put his hand on Flint's shoulder, as if he wanted to be helped, but Flint got the message and shut his mouth before he could make a witty trait of humor. Thanks God.

\- - Listen, _mon ami_ , Hilary started, we have some news from the higher spheres of the templars and it's not…. I mean, we're really worried about you and we need to talk.

It was the best he could do without being sassy again and he left the rest to Renardo. Standing on his hill with his crocodile, Alfie wasn't saying anything, which wasn't helping. They could feel that cold aura of anger around him and that beast wasn't so reassuring.

\- - Alphonse, the Grand Master doesn't care about what's going on there and he –

\- - Of COURSE he doesn't, cet imbecile ! Why would he? Why would anyone care? No one seems to realize how hurt I am, this feeling of… Bon sang, ce sale petit cancrelat ! Sale…

\- Alphonse, please, let me finish. The Grand Master isn't please and isn't concerned but _we_ are. We came a long way to talk to you about this situation and we won't go away until we find something to help you, Renardo said trying not to look at the beast fangs.

\- - Oh I know what you think. Poor little faggot who got backstabbed because he nagged the wrong boy. Poor sugar daddy who got screwed the wrong way by the brat he cherished too much.

\- - No one's judging you, but yourself, Alfie.

\- - I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING !

He was starting to get hysterical and the crocodile at his feet was starting to move as if it was going out of a long, long sleep.

\- - Alfie, we're not thinking anything, we just want you back, said Hilary as calmly as he could considering the situation.

\- - _Amigo_ , I don't care who you fuck, I never did, but you need to go back home, Manuel added. No one's judging you. We're here to help. Fo' real.

\- - He's doing a terrible job anyway, that Charlie, said Hilary. Most of your slaves have left for God knows where and I heard he locked himself in the house, since the whole order turned his back on him. Whatever happened, whatever you did, the order is behind you, since the beginning.

The storm agitating his remaining eye seemed to calm for a bit. He made a quick gesture to trim his hair, and another one to make the beast go away, somewhere behind the hill. He looked a bit quieter but they all knew it was only a matter of time before he went hysterical again.

\- - So, Crocodile Dandy, can we have a little talk now? said Hilary with a grin.

He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be civilized for more than five minutes. Renardo would gladly have put his smiling redhead into some muddy hole in the ground but Flint's self-esteem seemed to grow on Alfie and in the end, he shrugged.

\- - Fine. Come inside my new palace."

He disappeared behind the hill and Flint winked at Renardo who thanked him with a slap which missed his head by a few inches, as Hilary had seen it coming. Manuel made them stop and climbed the hill first, followed by the two others still trying to slap each others. Behind the hill, a shabby looking shack was hiding behind the trees, in the swamp, and some movement could be seen in the water, under the little plants that covered almost the whole pond. As they didn't want to know what was moving here, they rushed into the cabin they had not seen yet, as their first encounter had taken place near the pond.

The smell inside was almost unbearable and the walls were crowded with skulls, bottles with some horrible kind of monsters fishes inside, and Flint saw something that looked like a dead baby before quickly turning away, only to be surprised by a giant crocodile skull hanged on the ceiling. A bed, or so to speak, since it was more like a rotting pile of hay with a dirty linen covering it was somewhere near the only window of the cabin. A table with two chairs was in the center of the room and they could see some metallic stuff behind the bones and jars of dirt and monsters but none of them wanted to know what it was.

"Nice… Place to live, said Flint, fighting the urge to puke on the floor.

\- - May God save me from such nice places to live, groaned Alfie.

\- - Are those your… Settings? Renardo asked as he sat down to the table with the Dandy.

\- - Obviously not, someone is letting me live in one of her places.

\- - And this person might be..?

\- - Haven't you guessed? It's Dominique's place. Hence the smell, the paintings on the walls and all those _horreurs_ in the jars everywhere.

\- - Of course, said Hilary who had not seen the painting yet. Is it me or are those painting actually painful to watch? I mean, not to be sassy or anything…

\- - Of course not.

\- - … But when I look at them I just feel… Sick.

\- - Don't look at them then. They have power, said Alfie. This girl… She has been very kind to me and very… Helpful, he grinned.

\- - You're playing a dangerous game, _amigo_ , Manuel said, looking very uncomfortable, which was a rare sight.

\- - Pfff, and what do I have left to loose, hein ? Alfie shouted, making them jump.

\- - Oh come on, Alfie, we all know this is just temporary. You'll be back to your place in a few days, said Hilary.

\- - Oh, is it so ? How nice to let me know.

\- - We're here to figure out how, Renardo went on calmly.

\- - Won't be easy to have a chat with the brat, he's locked down in your house and don't wanna see anybody, Manuel sighed.

\- - We'll get him out. But only if you promise you'll work with us, Alfie.

\- - What do I have to lose anyway… But I want my revenge.

\- - Whatever you like. But we must act quickly before Grand Master Torres burns your house to the ground. They need a real comte de Marigot, someone to hold the place, make his way with the merchants and let the order flourish, not an idiot who locks himself in his dungeon. Why is he doing so anyway ?

\- - Well… Alfie said slowly with a dement smile, someone had to remind him who's really the boss, here… N'est-ce pas ? He will learn in pain. He won't know a single hour of rest before I get my property back. That's what Dominique assured me.

\- And she does all this out of… Pure charity, I guess ? asked Flint.

\- - Obviously not. Some… Sacrifices will have to be made. I guess Charlie might make his way to the first ranks at that moment, said Alfie calmly with the same disturbing smile.

\- - Amigo, you're freaking me out, said Manuel rubbing his arms as if he was cold.

\- - You haven't seen anything. But ask Charlie, he will tell you. Oh, yes he will." He concluded taking a flask and drinking some poor quality rum.

Oh the days of the crystal glasses were long since past.


	4. Chapter 4

The night was coming on the new Marigot land. Or more like the Jean/Marigot land, since Alfie was living in the Hougan's daughter's cabin in the jungle. Where was she living? Where was she, at this precise moment? Alfie didn't know. She always showed up on point but he had no idea how. Somehow, he believed she had some kind of dark spirits leading her. When he had drank his potion last time, he had felt something dark around her, not an aura, more like a dark cloud of heavy energy wavering around her. Cold, restless, terrifying.

The cabin itself was a nightmare. The first night, he had thought about sleeping outside, but the swamps were full of predators and not all of them were under control. Only one or two crocodiles, and only when Alfie performed a little ritual (he had to do it outside and he hated that part where he was totally vulnerable but it had to be done and it fuelled it with such a negative energy, he felt ready to destroy the world.)

But at night… The noise of the swamp, the smell of the cabin, the skulls here and there and those horrible bottles full of Gods knew what, those paintings on the walls… He had to cling to happy memories to sleep quite decently, and even right after the betrayal, when his heart was still bleeding, all of his thought went to Charlie. Why? Why were his best memories attached to the kid? He had thought about it over and over again, and he had tried to persuade himself that it was due to this particular state of wealth. He was rich, he had the best situation he could dream of, he had a good situation in the order and faithful friends (who had not let him down despite his loss)… And love.

Or so he thought. So, when it came to finding good memories, it was only natural to think of Charlie who represented everything he had ever wanted in life, since he was old enough to know what he wanted. Money, big house, nice situation, fresh boy in his bed. But in the end, when he tried to cling on these memories, he could only see Charlie's lips. Charlie's hips coming closer to his as he was opening his legs and closing them around his waist when their breathes melted into one. His eyes, revealing way more than anything he could say or show, this cunning sparkle in his eyes, those little scars on his cheeks… And this ridiculous little star he had attached to his hat which was marking every single move of his head, swinging around him. Charlie had been Alfie's own little star, first glimmering quietly as the boy was quite shy and then shining like the sun, giving him a new warmth he had not imagined. But the sun had turned into a black hole, taking everything from him and leaving only darkness behind. But he tried not thinking about it. Not at night. At night, he needed the boy's warmth, the memories of his smile and stupid jokes, and most of all, the feeling of his body against him. Sometimes, he could focus on him so much he could almost see a light, feel the warmth and hear a laugh, maybe due to this strange paintings on the walls. Sometimes, he was only left with the cold, the darkness and the hideous sensation of being stabbed right into his chest. Lately, since he had not seen the boy in a while, all that was left was hatred and resentment and he barely slept at night. When the trio had reached him in the woods, the lack of sleep in this cabin full of occult items and his brain going round and round about the betrayal and his own misery had taken him to the brink of an abyss of insanity.

And yet, as they were about to leave for his plantation, he could barely remember the boy's face. He was blonde with a bright smile and look but where were the scars on his body already? Was he right or left handed? Alfie guessed it would no longer be a problem once the crocodile would have eaten one or two limbs. This thought made him shiver with excitement as it made him nauseous. A part of him wanted Charlie dead and crucified for what he had done and another part just wanted to get back in time and to cuddle with him for a whole week, and fuck him until none of them would be able to walk for a few days.

"… We going to find our way now ?

\- Pardon ? asked Alfie trying to get away from his thoughts.

\- I said, how are we going to find our way back to your plantation now? The night will be there in a while and it's already dark with this damn vegetation, Renardo sighed.

\- You're daydreaming Alfie? No need to dream _mon ami_ , your plantation will be yours again soon, said Flint patting the Dandy's back gently.

\- And by what means? Getting the house back is a fact, how do I get my title back ? he snorted.

He appreciated this help, despite his gloomy mood. The trio seemed really involved in the rescue and none of them seemed to be judging him as he had feared. If only everything went back to normal…

\- That none of your problems, to be honest, said Flint. I know the man who's in charge of administration in Kingston. He made Charlie's request invalid a few times, the boy is not count yet. As long as I give him a tip, he won't make the boy a count. And I still have plenty of money left for this, those bureaucrats are so cheap to corrupt ! Hilary said with a laugh.

\- I'm still… The comte de Marigot ?

\- Officially, yes. For as long as I'm in charge of covering you.

\- Why did you do that?

Flint raised an eyebrow, as if he wasn't understanding the question.

\- Why are you even asking? You're a fellow templar. A friend. And I never liked the brat anyway. He can be much of an arsehole, but so can I, and I wondered which one of us would let it go first. But since you made him afraid of leaving the house, it's no longer a big deal, sadly, the game became a bit dull. Not that I'm complaining... But...

\- Hilary, je... Merci, said Alfie unable to say anything more.

\- De nada ! said Flint amused to see the Dandy about to cry.

\- That's Spanish, Flint, not French, said Manuel rolling his eyes.

\- Damn. How do you say –

\- You'll take Spanish classes later, _amigo_ , we need to find a way to get out of here alive, remember?"

Alfie looked at the three of them arguing with a growing feeling of joy. Seeing them being, well, human, arguing like they always did, with Renardo trying to get Flint and Mendoza to work (the two of them tend to act like teens when they were together and Aguilar always had to remind them they had work to do)... Suddenly the feeling inside the cabin was less gloomy, more human, simply... alive. He could almost feel the carved bones on the walls shivering in front of these demonstrations of love and friendship, as if they had fed on his hatred and now were surrendering in front of a more powerful force. The painting on the walls looked less bright and the light looked more... Present. He wouldn't have been able to explain, but the fact was simple: he was feeling better and the forces nourishing on him were retreating for a darker place. He clapped his hands, making the conversations (now about whether or not it was vital to learn some new Spanish or French words right now in the jungle) stop at once.

They all looked at him, and he saw in their eyes that something had changed for them too. The comte de Marigot was coming back, slowly. He was still frightening with his shaggy look but the storm in his remaining eye had disappeared and now only a fierce determination was to be seen. Flint put his hands on his hips, ready to listen and Manuel who was still laughing about some joke Alfie had missed put his arm around his friend's shoulders, ready as well. Renardo, still sitting at the table, was looking a bit crossed at his friend's stupid behaviour, but Alfie knew he wouldn't replace them for all the gold in the world. He smiled.

"I know how to get out of here. I've done it many times at twilight.

\- And how? It will be a miracle if I can get out of here without breaking my leg or getting eaten by mosquitoes, or something bigger and... Fanger.

\- It has nothing to do with miracles, _maître Flint_ , said Alfie, it's something... Darker.

\- _No me gusta_ , groaned Manuel.

\- Me neither, but since we're out of other strategies...

\- Come with me, said Alfie taking a bottle of yellowish powder and another one with several layers of brown, disgusting liquid.

\- _No me gusta_ , Manuel repeated with a frown.

\- Shush, _hermano_ , wait and see."

They followed him outside where he stopped near the pond, at a place that looked to flat and neat to be in a natural condition. Every time he had to summon some dark force to help him, he did it there with painting and blood but every time, when he went back, the place was neat and tidy, with no trace of anything. The trio had remained near the cabin, a bit afraid to come near a place from where any crocodile could jump and bite your arms if not worse. Alfie kneeled and opened the two bottles. The noises of the forest started to vanish, one after the other, slowly. The bird stopped singing, the insect remained silent and any trace of any wild activity stopped as if nothing had ever taken place in a virgin jungle. A wind coming from nowhere made the leaves in the trees rustle as if they were whispering things to each others, disregarding Alfie's actions. In the mud, he was drawing complicated symbols and filling them with the powder Dominique had given him. Paint, bones reduced to dust, ashes of unknown things from any ritual he didn't want to know about...

Manuel swore in Spanish squishing his weapon so tight his knuckles went white. Renardo and Flint, arms crossed, were waiting, without saying a word. Flint was looking unimpressed (but a little tense) and Renardo who had been raised with a strict catholic education was feeling very nervous about all this. But they had no choice now.

Alfie took the second bottle and the wind stopped. Everything was frozen, and the trio unconsciously hold their breath when he poured what looked like blood in a circle he had drawn in the mood around the inscriptions. He looked at them, and smiled.

"Chicken." He said as he saw Mendoza with a look of disgust on his face, when he saw the blood spilled.

"That's what she said..." Flint whispered with a smile and Renardo shoved his elbow in the redhead's ribs to make him shut his goddamn trap.

Alfie took a flask in his pocket. This one had no alcohol in it, but this stinky and disgusting potion the Hougan told him to drink to connect to the spirit world and control the forces he was summoning. But this time... His anger and hatred were still here, oh, for sure, but they were coming to find Charlie, and he wasn't so sure he wanted the boy's death or suffering in the end. Damn, he still loved him, there was no need to hide it now, what was he supposed to do? He hesitated for a while, in the silence of the jungle which looked like a dead zone now, and drank it. Only a half of what the Hougan had told him to drink, but it should be enough to control the spirit as long as it was needed to fulfil their plan, but not enough to make him blind enough to kill the boy. Or so he hoped. He was shivering so much when replacing the cap on the bottle that it had to give it two or three tries before he finally closed it and put it back in its pocket, once full of gold.

Hands in the mud to cover his shaking, he started singing in a very low tone in an unknown language. It sounded like Creole but in a much throaty way. He had always been a good singer and sometimes, during his infamous parties, people asked him to sing French smutty songs and most of his guest had to admit it, even the dirtier words looked nice with his voice. He had always been a pretty good singer, due to his experience at la Comédie Française but anyone who would have heard him sing on a stage would have been shocked to see that horrifying clown now singing occult lyrics in a muddy swamp in the New World.

The singing lasted a few minutes and then a thunder made the three templars jump of their feet as the tension in the air was almost unbearable as time went by. With such a heavy atmosphere and now the thunder, they put their head down as they were waiting for the rain or something worse, coming from the sky, but nothing happened. The noises of the jungle came back, insects first, and with them, a fat crocodile went out of the swamp. He had some painting on his ribs and a symbol on his head, painted with God knows what to resist to water.

"Follow the leader!" said Alfie with a bow to the crocodile. His French accent was stronger than before.

"This is officially the worst idea you ever had, congrats, _señor_." Flint whispered to Renardo as he was heading to Alfie, trying to look self confident but terrified inside.

Manuel followed, still holding onto his weapon and Renardo closed the walk silently approving Flint, for once. What had they done? He could feel his heart beating in his ears and the catholic cross on his chest, made of the purest Spanish gold, was now feeling heavy as if it had been made of stone. He had been wearing it 24/7 since he was 14 and was so used to its contact that he forgot he had it under his clothes but now it was too heavy not to feel like a warning.


	5. Chapter 5

The night had now fallen on the jungle who was as noisy as before, and thus more frightening. Alfie had a torch, but he was the only one carrying a light and the three others had difficulties carrying on through the wood without light... Since none of them wanted to be too close to the Dandy and his pet. Alfie had changed, since they had entered the jungle again, and his behaviour was so weird he was almost as scary as the crocodile slowly crawling in the undergrowth. Sometimes he would turn his head briefly and stop, as if he had heard a call in the distance, then he's go on as if nothing had happened. Flint had called his name the first time he had done so, but he had not reacted and Hilary had not given it a try again. Too weird. So he went on walking, apparently without any difficulty, when the three of them were doing their best not to fall into a puddle of mud, a rabbit hole (or worse) in the ground or simply trying to avoid a tricky root trying to make them fall head in the dirt.

If they had been in the moonlight, Manuel would have been able to guess what time it was, but there was nothing but a thick bed of leaves above their heads and God knows what in the foliages. The road to the plantation looked like it took twice as long to make in the other way, if it was the right way. They were following a mad man in a thick jungle and the three of them had a heavy weigh on their stomach, even if none of them made any comment. They wouldn't risk anything more than what they were already gone for. In the end, Flint broke the silence, whispering to his friends.

"Shouldn't we hear the slave singing right now? If we were going closer to the plantation?"

But before Renardo could answer, Alfie's voice echoed from a few feet away. How could he hear him in the distance ?

"They're not working. They know we're coming. But he doesn't. That's the main part. And he's so frightened right now he won't even bother getting out to tell them to work. We're almost there, anyway. You can't see the lights on the property because there aren't any. But I know we're here. I feel it. I smell it."

He insane, thought Manuel without opening his mouth but... But a slight smell of burning sugar was in the air. Almost indistinguishable, but for a man who worked in a farm himself, he could smell that kind of smells from a mile away.

And suddenly, without a warning, the big house was showing itself in broad moonlight. The white paint on its walls made them look like it was made of bones. No light was burning in any room upstairs. Alfie frowned. He was sure the brat was in his room, but he was also sure he wouldn't be sleeping without a light. So it meant he had gone somewhere else to sleep.

"Let us take a walk on my lands, gentlemen." Said Alfie more confident than ever.

They were busy removing the mud from their boots but they followed without a word. Hilary raised a hand behind his back to feel the reassuring presence of his pair of flintlocks pistols. He looked at Renardo who made a gesture toward his beloved sword hanging on his thigh and Manuel was swinging his mace nervously.

"Alfie ? Do you have a weapon? Just in case ?

\- Oui _mon ami_. It's crawling at my feet.

\- I was thinking of something more... Metallic.

\- Oh, then no, I don't. My dear Charlie didn't let me much time to flee and I have no idea where he put my hooks now. But I won't need them, I guess."

They went on walking until they reached the door of the big house. The threshold was empty of any presence. The steward used to smoke his pipe here at night but there was no sign of any living creature. The whole property looked dead... Or holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen. The crocodile wasn't able to climb the stairs and the trio had to stop a few feet away from the house. None of them want to be near the beast. Alfie went up and tried to open the door. It opened without resistance and he stopped to listen for a few seconds. Then he closed his eyes (which was a relief, seeing his injured eye wasn't the most pleasant thing ever) and waited another minute.

"No one. The house is completely empty."

He should have been worried, crossed, that everyone had left his property, no more servants, no more stewards or cooks, but he was smiling. That same insane smile he had greeted them with a few hours ago. In the moonlight, he looked even paler than when he used to wear white powder à la française on his face.

"Maybe he left for good. So we won't have the big scene you wanted, in the end, said Renardo a bit too quickly.

\- No. He's here. I can feel it. He's somewhere. And I will find him. And then...

\- And then..? Manuel asked, worried.

Alfie looked at him and his expression changed for a second. For a second, he looked vulnerable, lost and confused. Then he winked and he was back to this disturbing mask he had been wearing the last hours.

\- Wait and see, _mon chéri_ !" he concluded before getting down the threshold and walking past them, the beast on his heels.

Hilary and Manuel followed. Hilary sighed and took Renardo's arm to make him come, but the Duelist didn't move.

"Oy, _amigo_ , come, you don't want to miss the party, do you ?

\- Something moved in the shadows. I swear I saw something move.

\- Something ? Or someone ?

\- Some... Person-shaped smoke. It was brief, gone in a second, but it was here I can swear it.

\- We should move. Fast." Said Manuel now very nervous.

He was a cold tempered man and seeing him in such a state was an alarm for the others. Renardo reluctantly moved from his position, looking backwards every two seconds. Alfie was walking around the house, quite lightly, and they could hear him humming some French song in his normal voice, as if they were not doing anything more important than an inspection of his territories.

The property itself was quite big, there were fields everywhere around the buildings and three building had been built under century old trees that protected them from the heat (and almost cost them their roof at every storm). The first one, the house, build on two floors, an elegant and sophisticated building with pretty windows made of stain glass, gables on the roof and pretty rocking chairs on the threshold was known in the region for the parties it had hosted a few months ago. In the back of the property, the slave quarters were installed in a big building, entirely made of wood, as comfortable as a slave dormitory could be, with a few hay beds and almost no chains, between a big mango tree and a rock taller than any building around, marking the end of the Marigot plantation. And in between, a big warehouse, bigger than the house and almost as high, in which everything was stocked, from sugar to tools, in big wooden boxes. A small part of it was open on the outside and was where the slaves were boiling the sugar. It was covered enough to protect them from the rain but open enough to have some fresh air from the sea. At night, the door between that part and the storage was locked... But the light could be seen under the big doors of the storehouse, and at the little windows under the roof. There he was. The bedbug had left the bed for the warehouse. Why ?

"There he is." The Dandy whispered.

\- So what ? asked Flint in a whisper. We break into the warehouse? How is it locked?

\- From outside. It's always locked from outside. He must have asked someone to lock him inside, Alfie answered, barely audible.

\- So, we climb to the window?

\- No need to, said Manuel looking in his pockets. Light, _por favor_."

Alfie came toward him as he went to the door and put his torch at the lock's level. Manuel started picking up the lock, but as soon as the first ,very slight noise of his pick entering the lock was heard, a sharp voice screamed inside.

"GO AWAY ! WHOEVER YOU ARE JUST GO !"

The terror in his voice made them shiver but it only made Alfie laugh in a high pitched voice, as he nodded to Manuel. Go on, the gesture said. So Manuel went on.

"PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU JUST GO, WHOEVER YOU ARE !"

The boy was crying now and it seemed like Alfie was drinking his screams as if it was the finest wine from Paris. He was closing his eyes and smiling, stroking the door as if it was made of fur.

"Whoever I am, Charlie, really?" he asked almost tenderly.

\- Ma... Master is that you?

The lock fell on the ground, finally opened and Manuel stepped away. The Dandy opened the door of the warehouse in a theatrical gesture, using both his hands as if he was opening a red curtain revealing the grand finale of his plan. The crocodile rushed into the warehouse and went straight to the boy who was resting on a box, a few feet above the ground. The crocodile opened his mouth and snapped his jaws several time, furious. Alfie followed, looking scarier than ever as his eye was now shining with an unspeakable anger and the three templars followed him, reluctantly. They had made this possible and now, they had to witness what was bound to happen.

The boy was in a poor state, to be honest. He looked like he had not slept in a fortnight and his eyes, formerly shining with mischief were now underlined by purple heavy circles and looking as mad as his master's. He had not changed his clothes in a while and his blonde hair was now looking just as tortured as the rest of his body, as if he had stroked them nervously for days. He looked thinner than ever and now he was curled up on top of his box, against the wall, he looked like a frightened child.

"It seems that the little gift I put under your bed was pretty effective, in the end. Oh, wait, it was under MY bed you filthy thief, did you like the dreams you made at night? I hope they were as dark and made you as restless as I was in those damn woods, you scurvy little brat, now GET DOWN and meet your fate young man!"

Charlie looked as if he had not seen the beast yet. His eyes were locked on Alfie, and he made no movement except to stick closer to the wall.

"Master, I regret, I regret everything! he cried.

\- You bet your skinny arse, you do!

\- I shouldn't have done that, master, I swear I regret!

The distress in his voice and the tears rolling down his pitiful face was a pain to watch and ear. But the templars had to remain silent. Even Flint.

\- Oh? Is that so? And why, _s'il vous plait_? asked Alfie lending his ear in an exaggerated gesture.

\- I didn't know what I was doing, I, I...

The dandy waved his hand in an angry move and Charlie screamed in pure terror, covering his face, lying on his box. Both of them could see things, things the templars could only feel. They felt a strong energy taking place in the room, streaming round and round, making them more uncomfortable at every second. If Charlie could see the hideous faces of the voodoo tormenting spirits, they could only feel their wrath. And it was enough for them to want to run away. But none of them wanted to be the first to run and at every wave of energy, they went closer to each other. Manuel could feel Renardo's sword in his waist and Flint already had the wall in his back, he wouldn't be able to escape further away.

\- I will tell you what you did, young man. I opened my door to you when you were nothing but a bilge licker thrown away on my shores by some pirates who were fed up with your constant talking and bad manners, I took you on my property, I fed you, I gave you my money and...

His voice broke and even if he was facing Charlie and showing them his back, the templars noticed a change in his stance, in his attitude. They moved slowly toward him, one step after the other, carefully. The crocodile was still at the bottom of the boxes, crawling in circles, angrily.

\- I gave you my heart, you filthy slut, and you tore it apart like a bad play's script!

\- I'm sorry master I'm so sorry, Charlie said in a whisper. Let me give you everything back, I swear I...

\- Give me everything back? But everything is mine again, lad, and I hope you enjoyed your last days here with all the whore you took in MY own bed!

\- 'Never took anyone, he snorted. Never.

\- What... Did you just say? asked Alfie frowning. Say it again. AGAIN!

Charlie blenched, paler than ever.

\- I was on my own the whole time, sir, it... It just didn't feel right, I... I missed you and...

\- Uh oh, said Flint.

\- Oh you missed me? Did you miss me, comfortably installed in _my_ own house, drinking _my_ wine, making _my_ slaves work when you were sitting in _my_ bed ? How thoughtful of you, Charlie, how thoughtful, _vraiment_.

But his tone had changed. As if the crocodile at his feet had sensed the change, it stopped moving. Alfie wasn't looking so self assured now and as he could feel the effects of the Hougan's potion wearing off, he was feeling a bit dizzy.

\- Master, please.

Charlie's voice was lower than a whisper and yet sharper than charlk on a blackboard.

\- Holy shite, the brat's sincere, I think I'm gonna throw up, said Flint with a grimace.

\- Charlie, said Alfie ignoring his friend (both of them were barely conscious that a crocodile and three other people were in the same room anyway), the deed is done. You've done... you've been too far.

His voice was now calm and somehow, it made Charlie more agitated than before.

\- It's never too late! I'll make amend! I'll do whatever you want Master please, don't leave me! Forgive me!

The crocodile groaned and suddenly, Charlie noticed it, painted with the same voodoo symbols he had seen in his sleepless nights of despair, on those black eyed deities who were tormenting him nights after nights.

\- Master please. PLEASE! Don't do that, MASTER! You don't have to, you... You... We can...

\- I went to some dark places, when you were away from me. You put me there. You made me deal with unknown forces to reclaim what once was mine by right. Now the forces want what I promised. They want blood. No more chickens nor pigs. It's time to seal your fate and the deal I made, in the same puddle of blood.

\- Master. You can't do this to me. It's me, Charlie, I'm still... I'm still the man you love, and... Master please...

\- Oh come on, whispered Renardo. This isn't going anywhere."

But Charlie was coming toward Alphonse, slowly, they eyes locked. He went down his box, then down another, and he kneeled in front of his former master. His knees were still above the Dandy's head, far away from the Crocodile's reach, but his shaking hand was now able to reach Alfie's face, since he wasn't moving, as if he was mesmerized by what he was seeing and about to touch again. And he was, kind of. Charlie's trembling jaw line, the little star on his hat waving quietly, his clear eyes, now underlined by dark circles, were expressing pain and... What ? Love? Or was it what he was trying to find so desperately he was finally seeing it? The hand on his cheek was shaking, and cold but he felt something break in him, so clearly he could almost hear its noise and suddenly, everything appear in this hideous truth. He was back on his property, facing the boy he loved more than anything, ready to kill him to satisfy some dark deity he had summoned in his mad anger. The swampy smell of the crocodile at his feet, the dark pressure on his mind, the shivering light challenged by the waves of energy and the presence of his three friends... Everything was so unbearably real... And a laugh echoed in the room, breaking the trance of their locked eyes.

"I knew it. The white man's spirit is so weak. I knew it would be a disappointment."

The five men turned their head so quickly Manuel felt a crack in his neck and briefly swore in Spanish. A woman was sitting in the window looking at them with utter disdain. Her black skin was painted with white symbols and the bones on her dress changed from the one she had been wearing at Alfie's last party. Her face was also covered in dark symbols in thin lines and suddenly, they all felt the energy coming back to her.

"Dominique. It's you I saw in the shadows.

\- Of course, Renardo, who else? I needed to keep an eye on my client, I was pretty sure he would fail. Oh, the power of love...

She laughed and turned her eyes to the two lovers reunited under her watch. The crocodile was looking at her, waiting for her. Alfie had lost all his power on the beast as he had drank only half of her potion and now he was trapped on the ground between Charlie above him and Dominique on the other side, with his former ally now hungry.

\- I am so disappointed. I gave you my cabin to be sure you'd be in good conditions to entertain me and yet your thoughts of the boy made a protection around you every night. But be sure the thought he had of you only made him weaker and sicker. Isn't it great ? she smiled. Now I'm sad to break this lovely reunion, but the price must be paid, my dears. Let's see if your love can overpower the spirits of destruction! See you at your next party, _mon chéri_... Or not !"

A second after, she was gone, leaving the five templars in an uneasy situation. Charlie was out of reach but Alfie was on the ground slowly moving backward to his friends who took their weapon slowly.

\- Master ! Charlie screamed.

\- OH COME ON IS IT YOUR ONLY LINE ? Flint shouted angrily.

Manuel sniggered with his weapon in his hand, ready to fight.

\- That's no use, said Alfie in a quiet tone where a hint of fear was growing, even if we kill this one, I made a deal, others will come, that's no use, we have to...

But before he could finish his sentence, the crocodile sprinted in his direction and he jumped backward, causing a lamp to fall on the ground, spilling its oil which made a wall of flames in a second. But the beast was possessed and nothing would have stopped it. It sprinted toward the flames and before Alfie even knew what was going on, it was facing it, its mouth wide open, wide enough to swallow a whole leg in a snap.

Coming from nowhere, Charlie jumped above the flames, holding a fork the slaves used to harvest the cane leaves, and he came between Alfie and the beast, raising his fork to strike. He had seen people do this in the swamp. The trick was to stick the two fangs of the fork around the crocodile's nose to prevent him from moving. His head would be stuck and then, they would kill it. But he had not eaten well in days, he was terrified, his leg was burnt from his jump above the fire and his hands were shaking. The fork missed. He ripped the beast's nose, making him angrier than ever and Charlie fell on the ground as it was charging him. The boy screamed in pain as the crocodile trying to get his leg. He was ripping his flesh at every try he was giving, as Manuel and Renardo were trying to make it go away. But he had the boy's leg and wasn't ready to let it go.

"FIRE, HILARY FOR GOD'S SAKE ! Renardo shouted.

\- It's useless on a crocodile, the skin is too thick, I won't make any damage! I can't aim, he's moving too fast !

Their voices were barely covering Charlie's screams as the best was now trying to tear his leg off. Alfie was trying to hold Charlie but any move it would do could kill the boy if the crocodile succeeded in his attempt.

Suddenly, the crocodile surrendered as behind the flames, a vision of horror was coming from the darkness. A man completely covered in bones was uttering throaty noises in a unknown language, and now the Crocodile was turning in circles with the man, making a strange dance around the fire. The man was completely naked except a kind of armor made of bones, and as he was dancing to get the crocodile's attention, they could hear the bones shaking, in the silence now only broken by Charlie's sobs in Alfie's arms. The man took a kind of sceptre he had in his hand and handed it toward the beast who snapped his jaws angrily. He repeated the dance and the gesture three times, making his strange throaty sounds louder every time.

And suddenly, the pressure in the air disappeared. The lights went still and the beast stood still for a few seconds before coming back into its normal attitude. It looked as confused as Alfie but this state only lasted a few seconds, before he was ready to attack again, as it felt threatened.

A loud bang made the whole building shake as its eye exploded in a burst of blood, aquerous humor and brain parts. Flint's shot were never missing. He was standing perfectly still, his flintlocks still smoking, as everyone turned their eyes to him, and then to his prey.

The beast shivered for a whole minute and finally died, curling up on itself in its last breath.

The black man removed the cow skull from his face and grinned.

"Welcome back, Master de Marigot."


	6. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

It had been a few weeks since the incident at the plantation. But the comte de Marigot was back in his place and the Grand Master was satisfied. Renardo had made his report, alongside with the two other templars and the master had listened to a... Let's say, lighter version of the facts. Oh, for sure, some adjustments had still to be done with Dominique but she was still hiding in the shadows and no one had heard of her since the accident. She must be crossed that another hougan managed to undo what had been done, but in the end, it wasn't the trio's problem.

Their only problem now was to guess what ambiance they would find in the plantation, as they were invited for tea time by the count. As they were reaching the farm, they could hear the slaves singing in the fields, which was a good sign. Most of them had come back, according to the reports they had heard, and Alfie had made some nice changes in their quarters, including a place to worship their deities, which was absolutely forbidden by the law, but hey, no one had to know.

As they were reaching the house, the steward opened the door. He looked better too. He made them come into Alfie's office, as the man wasn't done yet with all the troubles Charlie had given him in the past weeks. Renardo smiled as he saw the wig back in its place, neat and tidy, the golden eyepatch back on his injured eye and a brand new costume with golden embroidery glimmering in the sunny afternoon. The Dandy was back, at last.

" _Bonjour_ ! he said with a warm smile. I'm almost done!

\- Take your time, you must have an awful lot of work to do, said Flint with a wink.

\- _Mon Dieu_ , you have no idea. This boy had no sense of commerce nor work whatsoever. Come with me, I'll finish this later."

A table had been prepared under the trees and a nice wind from the ocean was making the air fresh and salty. The tea was ready for them and they sat quietly.

"Charlie, you idiot, you forgot the cakes!

\- No master, I'm just finishing them, they're coming! said a voice in the kitchen.

\- I hope 'finishing them' doesn't mean you're eating them.

\- You make him work? With his injured leg?

\- He had to learn things the hard way. I've been too soft with him.

Manuel said nothing but his face was expressive enough.

\- Here they are! said Charlie bringing a plate.

He was limping and his leg was covered with hideous scars,that had to remain uncovered with ointment he needed to cure them. He was scratched here and there but at least the brat was alive and still whining in his master's robe.

\- You made them yourself? Remind me not to eat any, said Flint taking his cup of tea.

\- I made the tea as well. Starve if you want to.

\- CHARLIE !

\- I'm sorry Master Flint, no offense, Charlie said quickly.

\- None taken, jerk.

\- I made him work in the kitchen. He's learning how to be useful, for once. But if you make a single mistake ever again...

\- Not a single one master, I swear.

\- Go away now.

\- Yes sir.

\- Woah, that's an improvement. I wonder if you're as tough at night, Flint snorted.

Alfie looked at him with a smile but said nothing. The boy was trying so hard to be forgiven; he was doing his best... At every level. For Alfie, the nights had never been so hot and promising. The boy was showing love, tenderness and was doing everything he could with an injured legs and sometimes, Alfie was taking care of his wounds himself, only to feel the warmth of his skin and to kiss his way back up there to his... Well.

His smile widened.

\- That's none of your concerns.

\- Of course not, said Flint with a smile.

\- What does the Grand Master know about all this ?

\- The strict minimum, nothing more. Renardo said.

\- And Dominique?

\- Unseen so far.

\- Well..."

No one added anything. The memories of that night were clear as day, no need to comment it further.

They drank their tea in silence, listening to the slaves' song as the daylight dyed in red.

The lemon cakes were finally kind of edible, in the end.


End file.
